Innocent as Sin

66

Over Phoenix

Sunday

All Kayla could see was the shiny tops of Foley’s loafers. All she could hear was the hammering noise of a helicopter in flight. She knew she was bruised and scraped from Foley’s rough handling, but she couldn’t feel anything except the adrenaline flooding her body. Her thoughts came with unnatural speed and clarity.

Can’t run now.

Foley is the weak link.

Bertone is the stone killer.

Work on Foley.

She groaned and pushed away from the gun barrel jolting against her skull. Even Foley was smart enough not to shoot in a moving helicopter.

“Hold still, bitch!” he yelled.

The pilot winced and yanked off his headphones.

Kayla pulled her hair free of Foley’s grasping fingers and shouldered herself into a sitting position against the helicopter’s side. Behind her back, handcuffs wrapped her wrists like obscene bracelets.

No weapons within reach.

No purse.

No cell phone.

Not even a nail file.

The flat tract houses of Phoenix raced by in giddy beige curves as the pilot maneuvered to avoid power poles, telephone lines, and freeway overpasses. He was flying so low the skids nearly clipped roof tiles.

She wondered what Bertone would do if she died in a crash.

At least it would be quick. Maybe I should get my hands in front, do a Flight 93, and bring down this bird.

Or maybe not.

There’s still a chance to get out alive after we land. Small, but still a chance. That’s more than Flight 93 had.

Foley unhooked his harness and started to go after his prisoner.

The pilot grabbed his shoulder, shoved, and said, “Nyet!” loud enough to be heard over the engine noise.

The helicopter swayed and shimmied.

Foley sat down hard.

Kayla leaned her head against the vibrating metal of the helicopter and thought hard.

What is Foley’s weakness? Greed?

Hell, yes.

Stupidity?

Depends.

Would he believe I’d be his sex slave in order to survive?

In my place, would he do it?

Hell, yes.

Then he’ll believe it when I do.

With feral eyes, Kayla watched the men and waited for a chance to knee Foley in the balls and break his nose with her forehead. Her dad had taught her to fight only as a last resort-and then to fight hard, mean, and dirty.

All she wanted was a chance.

Just one.